


by roads to lose your heart

by heraldadaar (knightenchanteur)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Modern Girl in Thedas, Moral Dilemmas, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6115357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightenchanteur/pseuds/heraldadaar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night she <i>dreamed</i> of the puzzle. She orbited the floating wooden star, blinking when gleaming light peeked out from the loosened seams, accompanied by a great rushing static of noise, and heat, and the sensation of a heavy hand sliding down her cheek, and breath against her ear and-</p>
<p>She grunted as her toddler stepped on her head, trying to crawl across her to reach his father, and the tired voice of her five year old daughter, who was standing in their doorway, asked:</p>
<p>"Can you make breakfast <i>now</i>?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	by roads to lose your heart

  
The puzzle box had been a gift. 

Made of wood, and shaped like a starry tree-topper, it had to have been fairly awkward to wrap. Yet somehow, Greta's brother had managed. Before Greg had even gotten out of his girlfriend's car, he was thrusting the ball of newspaper and duct tape into her startled hands. He bent forward, turned in his seat and stood, emerging from the vehicle like a clown from a clown car - he simply looked too big, too tall, to fit inside the cramped space.

"Happy birthday, old lady," he had told her, bending near in half to pick her up and squeeze the air from her lungs in one big _whoosh_. He'd held her like that for a moment, her feet dangling above the ground, before she had awkwardly managed to jab a point of the package into his chest and secure her release.  
"Ow," he'd complained, playfully pushing her, big lout that he was, before he whirled to gather up his niece and nephew and proceeded to ignore her completely. 

The visit had been a good one, and the puzzle had been appreciated, though mostly from an aesthetic standpoint. 

"Don't you like shit like that?" Greg had asked. "I remember you putting together that plastic 3D gem thing when I was in like, 3rd grade." 

"I loved doing it, and yeah, I still like puzzles, but if you remember correctly it took me like two months-" Greta had begun.

"I would have gotten mad and shattered it in like a week," her brother interrupted her to tell Melanie, giving his girlfriend a sideways grin. 

"-and I didn't have kids with _questing fingers_." Greta pointedly eyed her toddler, a boy, who grinned when he realized he had her attention, and stated, quite plainly:

"I like dat."

"Everyone knows," she responded, stifling a smile before lifting the puzzle to eye height and rattling it. "Did you put something inside?"

"After what he just said, you really think he took it apart and put it back together?" Melanie laughed, shrugging when Greg mockingly frowned in her direction. "We found it in a thrift store. The lady said we better take it before she decided to just saw it open, so." Another shrug. 

"And it was very expensive," her brother adds.

"Was it?" Greta can't help but ask, eyebrows drawing together in concern before she spots the dimple that says he's lying. 

"It _looks_ like it is. You better send me a text and pictures when you finally open it. I would have tried if I didn't think I would break it in frustration."

"Promise, _Gregorius_ ," she'd teased him, before setting it on top of the tallest bookshelf in the room, well out of her children's reach. 

She had, pun intended, _puzzled_ over the star for several weeks, off and on. Her fingertips had smoothed over the wood, had tugged and pushed gently at the seams, sometimes sliding a piece out before thinking, surely she'd skipped something, and then starting over again. She had patience, though her children and husband didn't, and rather than rile them up with curiosity, she only took it out when she was alone - though the thought of it was much more present than she wanted to allow herself to realize. 

One night she _dreamed_ of the puzzle. She orbited the floating wooden star, blinking when gleaming light peeked out from the loosened seams, accompanied by a great rushing static of noise, and heat, and the sensation of a heavy hand sliding down her cheek, and breath against her ear and-  
She grunted as her toddler stepped on her head, trying to crawl across her to reach his father, and the tired voice of her five year old daughter, who was standing in their doorway, asked:  
"Can you make breakfast _now?_ "

The puzzle was becoming an itch in the back of Greta's mind. Always present, always a soft hum in her ear whenever she had a free moment, almost a litany of _open it, open it, open it open it open it openitopenitopenitopen_ \- But she had other things to do. More important things to do. 

A little boy's round face to wipe clean of dirt, and a girl's long golden hair to brush and braid, and her husband's arms to burrow into when the day was waning and her eyes were heavy - _open it_ \- and the unfinished comic pages, waiting on her desk, and - _open it, open_ \- the house to clean - _it, openit, openit_ \- and she - _openitopenitopenitopenit_ -

"Jesus!" She exclaims, hands balled into fists at her sides. She stares out the window, clenching her jaw as she watches her husband and the kids leaving, driving down the road towards the park. "You would think I'm fucking obsessed, it's like some _horror_ film-" She says aloud, half whispering. She grits her teeth and then shakes her head, forcing herself not to think about posession and haunted objects. Instead, not for the first time, she thinks that she's probably going to get the puzzle open and find some pebbles, evidence that the previous owner was a child.  
She takes the puzzle down from the bookshelf, settles down on the couch and crosses her legs comfortably before she gets to work. 

Maybe an hour later, with one piece left to shift to open it, she forces herself to put down the puzzle and grab her phone. She snaps a picture, hits send and then quickly taps out an accompanying message:

**2:55 PM  
I fucking win, little brother, look at this**

She doesn't get a reponse back, but then, she doesn't expect one until later. He's probably at work and she's much more excited about finally opening this _stupid_ piece of crap, just so she can gloat about it when she finally gets her brother on the line. She puts her phone down, stands up and zips up her hoodie, then grabs the puzzle before aimlessly pacing as she fiddles with the last piece, nerves suddenly creeping up her chest and settling like a weight at the base of her throat.  
She lifts the piece like a lever and tugs, a breath huffing out through her nostrils as it slides smoothly back, revealing-

Greta stares down into the small space, eyebrows drawing together before she lets a small laugh escape her. 

"Better than _pebbles_ ," she murmurs, before reaching into the space with two fingers so she can better grasp the strange-looking marble.

The moment her fingertips brush the marble, the puzzle falls with a clatter to the floor, pointed edges dented where it lands. It rolls in a slow arch before it stops and settles, and then, the house is silent.

The cell phone on the side table buzzes a short while later, the screen lighting up with the message:

**3:27 PM  
well? wtf was in it?**

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is going to be a thing. I'm also posting this over on tumblr, also under the name heraldadaar, where I will eventually have small additional things about Greta and her ~~lovely~~ angsty journey.


End file.
